He had a sudden thought. Donovan apparently knew the names of all or some of the lottery winners for the year Jackson had fixed the game. What if he attempted to contact some of the others? If he didn’t get what he wanted from LuAnn, and Jackson felt reasonably sure he wouldn’t, the next logical step would be to seek out the others. Jackson took out his electronic Rolodex and started making phone calls. After half an hour he had finished contacting the other eleven. Compared to LuAnn, they were sheep to be led around. What he told them to do, they did. He was their savior, the man who had led them to the Promised Land of wealth and leisure. Now, if Donovan bit, the trap would spring.
Jackson began to pace the room. He paused and opened his briefcase. He pulled out the photos. They had been taken on his first day in Charlottesville, even before meeting with Pemberton. The quality of the photos was good considering he had been using a long-range lens and the early morning light had not been the best. The faces stared back at him. Sally Beecham looked tired and bothered. In her forties, tall and slender, she was LuAnn’s live-in housekeeper. Her suite was on the first floor on the north side of the mansion. He studied the next two photos. The two young Hispanic women constituted the cleaning staff. They came at nine and left at six. Finally came the photos of the groundspeople. Jackson studied each of their faces. When taking the photos, he had watched the people intently; how they moved, how they gestured. His handheld sound wand had picked up their voices perfectly. He had listened to their voices over and over as he had just listened to Riggs’s. Yes, it was coming together nicely. Like pieces in a strategic battle plan, he was positioning his soldiers to optimal advantage. Possibly, none of the information he had painstakingly gathered about Catherine Savage’s daily world would ever come into play. But, on the chance that it might, he would be more than ready. He put the photos away and closed the briefcase.
From a hidden compartment in his suitcase he drew out a short-handled throwing knife. Hand-crafted in China, the blade was so sharp it couldn’t even be touched by a bare hand without drawing blood; it was thrown by means of the perfectly balanced teak handle. Jackson strolled around the room, as his mind was sidetracked for a moment. LuAnn was uncommonly fast, lithe, agile, words that could equally be applied to himself. Yes, she had certainly upgraded herself. What else had she learned? What other skills had she acquired? He wondered whether she had experienced the same premonition he had: that their paths would cross again one day like two trains colliding. And had she done her utmost to prepare for that eventuality? Twenty feet. Using the letter opener, she could have killed him from that distance. Fast as he was, the blade would have been imbedded in his heart before he had a chance to react.
On this last thought Jackson wheeled around and let the knife fly. It sailed across the room, splitting the duck’s head completely in half upon impact and burrowing several inches into the wall. Jackson eyed the distance between himself and his target: At least thirty feet, he estimated. He smiled. LuAnn would have been far wiser to have killed him. She had, no doubt, been constrained by her conscience. That was her greatest weakness and Jackson’s greatest advantage, for he had no such parallel compunction.
Ultimately, if it came down to it, he knew that would be the difference.
Chapter thirty-nine
LuAnn watched Riggs, who lay dozing next to her. She let out a small breath and stretched her neck. She had felt like a virgin while they made love. An incredibly energetic display of sex, she was surprised the bed hadn’t caved in; they’d probably be sore tomorrow. A grin spread over her face. She stroked his shoulder and huddled next to him, putting one of her bare legs across both of his. With this movement he finally stirred and looked over at her.
A boyish smile cracked his face.
“What?” she asked, her eyes impish.
“I’m just trying to remember how many times I said ‘oh, baby.’ ”
She rubbed her hand across his chest, letting the nails bite in just enough to make him playfully grab her hand. LuAnn said, “I think it was more often than I screamed ‘yes, yes,’ but that was only because I couldn’t catch my breath.”
He sat up and put a hand through her hair. “You make me feel young and old all at the same time.”
They kissed again and Riggs lay back while LuAnn nestled on his chest. She noticed a scar on his side.
“Let me guess, old war wound?”
He looked up surprised and then followed her gaze to the scar. “Oh, yeah, real exciting, appendicitis.”
“Really? I didn’t think people came with two appendixes.”
“What?”
She pointed to another scar on his other side.
“Hey, can we just enjoy the moment here and stop with the observations and questions?” His tone was playful, but she noted the serious intent just below the surface.
“Well, you know, if you come over every day to work on the studio, we might make this a regular thing, sort of like breakfast.” LuAnn smiled and then almost immediately caught herself. What was the chance of that happening? The impact of this thought was crushing.
She quickly moved away from him and started to get up.
Riggs could hardly miss this dramatic transformation.
“Was it something I didn’t say?”
She turned to find him looking at her. As if suddenly self-conscious about her nakedness, she pulled the bedspread off the bed and draped it around her. “I’ve got a lot to do today.”
Riggs sat up and grabbed at the bedspread. “Well, excuse the hell out of me. I didn’t mean to get in the way of your schedule. I guess I had the six A.M. to seven A.M. slot. Who’s up next? The Kiwanis Club?”
She jerked the bedspread free. “Hey, I don’t deserve that.”
Riggs rubbed his neck and started to pull on his clothes. “Okay. It’s just that I’m having trouble switching gears as fast as you. Going nonstop from the most intensive passion I can ever remember to discussing the day’s workload sort of rubbed me the wrong way. I’m sorry as hell if I offended you.”
LuAnn looked down and then moved over and sat next to him. “That’s how it was for me too, Matthew,” she said quietly. “I’m embarrassed to tell you how long it’s been.” She paused and then said almost to herself, “Years.”
He looked at her incredulously. “You’ve gotta be kidding.” She didn’t answer and he was reluctant to break the silence. The ringing phone did.
Hesitating for a moment, LuAnn picked it up. She hoped to God it was Charlie and not Jackson. “Hello?”
It turned out to be neither. “We’re going to talk, Ms. Tyler, and we’re going to do it today,” Thomas Donovan said.
“Who is this?” LuAnn demanded.
Riggs quickly looked over at her.
“We had a brief meeting the other day when you were out driving. The next time I saw you was when you were sneaking out of my place with your boyfriend.”
“How did you get this number? It’s unlisted.”
Donovan silently laughed. “Ms. Tyler, no information is safe, if you know where to look. I’m assuming by now that you realize I know where to look.”
“What do you want?”
“Like I said, I want to talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Riggs went over to the phone and held the receiver with her. At first LuAnn tried to push him off but Riggs held firm.
“Sure you do. And I have a lot to say to you. I can understand your reaction the other day. Maybe I should have approached you differently, but that’s past. I know beyond a doubt that you’re sitting on a story of immense importance, and I want to know what it is.”